


John Watson needs some sleep

by slysherlock



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Post Reichenbach, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:37:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slysherlock/pseuds/slysherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My post-reichenbach fix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John Watson needs some sleep

It's been 2 months and John Watson needs some sleep.

He wakes up in a cold sweat, silent, harsh sobs trying to force themselves from his lips. He puts his forearm over his eyes, trying to get rid of the dead, unblinking eyes burned into his memory. A few tears escape and fall down his cheeks, and he's almost tempted to just leave them there and wallow in his self-pity. But he doesn't. He couldn't.

He gets up, rubbing his sore eyes gingerly and takes a look at the clock. 4:37 AM. Another night cut short by The Nightmare. He'd had the same one so many times now that he couldn't seem to remember ever sleeping longer than 2 or 3 hours without it. If Ella asked, John could've told her the exact number of hours he was completely oblivious. The exact number of minutes he was on the phone with Him. The exact number of seconds it took for Him to hit the pavement. Every night he relived it. Every single fucking night. 

The light pink and purple hues signaling sunrise, and the start of another day, stream through his closed blinds.

John Watson gets dressed with closed eyes, only opening them when fully dressed and sitting down in front of his desk. He reaches down and opens up one of the drawers of his small and undecorated desk and stares at the contents. His gun, the one he'd used on the cabbie, sits on top of old medical journals he'd never bothered to read and random papers papers from The Flat. He quickly shoves the drawer closed, as if to shut out anything connected with its contents. Watson opens up his laptop, and an empty blog post stares back at him, almost daring to say the things he couldn't admit to himself. He leaves. 

Sarah waves at him through the doorway of her office, signaling for him to come in. John found that the office was seemingly empty, and quiet, probably due to the early hour. He wasn't sure if Sarah noticed how fast he'd now jump at any chance to work overtime, or cover someone's shift. He needed to be more careful. 

"Take a seat, John. I want to have a talk with you." Her voice pushes its way into his head and settles there, pushing him into the chair directly in front of her. Watson feels her gaze on him as she waits for him to say something, but he doesn't. 

"I-... I'm so sorry about Sherlock, John. I know he was your best friend, or maybe even something more, and I want to let you know that you can take as much time off as you nee-" John closes his eyes and waits for the horrible, tight feeling in his chest to go away. He pinches his thigh , reprimanding himself for how stupid he was being and finally opens his eyes and puts on a smile he's sure that neither he, nor Sarah believe. 

"I'm fine, actually. Honestly. It's been 2 months." John feels the doubt even he feels in his statement but continues, "I've... got to go get ready. I'm taking over Amy's shift since she has a baby shower. Thanks for the worry, though." 

John scrapes his chair as he gets up and stiffly walks to his office, steadying himself for the day ahead. 

\---

A man is wheeled in, passing right infront of John, his dead, bloody eyes seemingly staring only at him. His face is covered in blood and for a second John almost thinks it's Him. The familiar rusty smell of iron permeate the usual stench of cleaning solution and John is suddenly reeling. He blinks and he's somehow across the street and looking up at the rooftop of St.Bart's, at Him. He's saying something into a phone but all John hears is white. He feels the all too familiar jostle of the bike hitting him, or.. was that just one of the ICU paramedics pushing past him. He blinks and the two worlds collide into a seemingly never ending haze of nightmare and reality. John wonders if it's possible for two things to merge if they're technically the same thing, but he says nothing. When he sees the jump, the same one he's seen too many times, John blinks his eyes and suddenly he's back at the hospital, sitting in the middle of the hallway on the pristine tiles. They're uncomfortably cold against his scrubs, but he doesn't get up. Sara is the one to remove him from the hallway. She gives him the rest of the day off and tells him to go do something for himself. John can't think of anything so he just goes back home and attempts to sleep, only to fall into the all-to-familiar nightmare he can't seem to escape, awake or asleep.

\--- 

John started meeting with Ella again a week after The Incident. Mrs.Hudson was the one to finally convince him. She had come in to check in on John, though John had continuously told he she needn't, when she walked in on John trashing the flat. He was ripping papers, flipping over that damn couch that He used to sulk on, smashing all of the test tubes he set his eyes on. Mrs.Hudson laid a hand on his shoulder and he spun around, raising a hand and, suddenly realizing his mistake, falling down onto his knees and sobbing into her shoulder. He gave Ella a call the next day. 

She always waited at the beginnings of their meetings, as if hoping he'd suddenly say something, he never knew what, that he'd been holding back. When she would realize that her attempt failed yet again, she'd let out a sigh and go through the same questions she always did. 

"I see you haven't written on your blog since The Incident, John. Any reason why?" 

"Nope. No reason. Don't have anything to write about anymore, really." She scribbles something and tilts her notepad away from him. 

"And how are the nightmares, John? Is the sleeping medication working?" 

After the first week of having nightmares, it'd slipped out to Ella. He hadn't meant to tell her, knowing she would make a big deal about it, but he had been so tired and weak. She then prescribed him 'something that would help'. After the third day of the second week, he was at his breaking point and angrily grabbed 2 pills and took them. An hour later he was laying his head on the side of the toilet bowl, after having thrown up his dinner, along with the pills. He didn't tell Ella.

"Yeah, it's really helpful. Haven't had one in a while, actually." John gave her a quick smile and hopes the queasiness in his stomach will subside. He looks out the window.

The rest of the meeting is the same as they always are; Ella spouts some nonsense about how he needs to go through the stages of grief and let himself feel, while John nods and waits until the tightness in his chest to go away. 

He wants to tell Ella things, but he doesn't. He couldn't.


End file.
